


Rose

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Nightmare Cafe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-23
Updated: 2007-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1635641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Cafe wasn't always a cafe.  The intro in italics is Blackie's opening molologue from the show, quoted for background (although Frank and Faye don't put in an appearance here).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rose

**Author's Note:**

> I love this show and this character, and simply had to write a story for this request. This was written in about two days, so appologies for typos and inaccuracies. Happy Yuletide!
> 
> Written for Memoriam

 

 

_Touch that remote...and you die._

Now that I've got your attention, here's the deal. See those two people? That's Frank, and that's Faye. Strangers when they met. Turns out they 've got a *lot* in common. Both died on the same night. Both ended up in the same body of water. ...And both took refuge in the same all-night cafe.

Me? I run the place. Name's Blackie. Been here from the beginning.

Now I know that I said Frank and Faye were dead. But the cafe needed a new cook and waitress, so it gave them a second chance at life. They do their job, they get to stick around and help unsuspecting customers turn their lives around. Course anything can happen to those who wander in--their worst nightmares, or their forbidden dreams. Yeah, it all happens here, in this little place we call...the Nightmare Cafe. 

+++++

As with so many things, it happened because of a woman.

Her name was Rose Lovell. She was the orphan daughter of immigrant parents who came to the new world seeking a better life--and who had died before finding it. Left on her own with no relatives to claim her, Rose had become a ward of the state, and had been raised in an orphanage until she'd turned eighteen. That's when Lady Luck took a shine to Rose, and her life took on the quality of a fairy tale.

For you see, Rose had been a favorite of the wife of the orphanage owner. When Rose had stated her intention to leave, the woman had pulled some strings with some old friends she'd had in finishing school, and gotten Rose a job in the household of a wealthy widow of old money and high society.

Not too long after that, the widow' s son came home from school in London. His arrival in the household had sparked a series of events in the following three months that had culminated in Rose walking down a dark street on a dark night, followed by five men wearing identical suits of dark clothing.

That was where Rose's fairy tale had ended.

...Or maybe that was just the beginning.

Blackie was at the bar, polishing glasses when Rose Lovell waked in through the door of the speakeasy. She was a tall, dark haired, dark eyed beauty who would have been striking even if not for the rich clothing she wore. She had on a long fur coat, and beneath it wore a dress that looked more suited to a night out in the jazz clubs than to a working-class establishment like the speakeasy. 

She looked around with a somewhat dazed expression, taking in the slightly faded elegance of the hardwood floor and half-timbered walls that were a bygone relic of the prohibition era. There had been no signs to mark the entrance to this place. It couldn't be located unless its whereabouts was known beforehand...or unless it was meant to be found.

Blackie set down the glass on the bar. "Come in," he said in a friendly tone. "You look like you could use a drink."

Rose cast a glance around the room. There was no one around tonight except for Blackie, and after a moment, Rose slowly drifted over to settle on one of the chairs along the bar.

"What'll you have? No, let me guess. A pink lady, right?"

Rose blinked at him in surprise. "Yes. How did you know?"

"Trade secret." Blackie took a cocktail glass from behind the bar and set it onto a paper napkin . "I'll have to ask you for the password, though."

That got him a small little smile. "Prohibition's been over for years."

"Really? Well, old habits die hard." Blackie removed the ingredients for the drink from under the bar and mixed them with the ease of long practice. When he was finished, he slid the glass in front of her. "For future reference, the password is 'Engagement'."

Rose looked up at him sharply. Blackie met that searching gaze with an air of perfect innocence. "Is something wrong?"

"...No," she replied after a moment. "Nothing." She took a stiff drink from the cocktail glass, and then another, draining it. Setting the empty glass aside, she fumbled in her coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette case.

Blackie produced a lighter from nowhere and politely lit her cigarette. Rose drew in a bracing breath of the smoke, and then looked around for an ashtray. There were plenty near at hand, and Rose reached out for the nearest of them.

She suddenly went very still as she saw, nested in the center of some spent ashes, a jeweled pin in the shape of a flower.

"Where did you get this?" she said, her dark eyes rising incredulously.

"Stolen items have a habit of finding their way here," came the easy reply.

Rose's eyes widened. The color rushed into her cheeks, and her gaze dropped back to the pin.

"Your drink seems to be empty," Blackie observed. "Would you care for another? Or, perhaps I could...tell your fortune?" Cards fanned suddenly between his fingers.

Now the gaze on him was wary. "I have gypsy blood," she said, in a tone that was almost a warning. "I know how dangerous fortunes can be. Thank you anyway."

"No? Well, perhaps a story, instead?" Blackie plucked a card, seemingly at random, from the collection in his hand. 

Without waiting for an answer, he laid it down on the polished wood. It was the Jack of Hearts. 

"Once upon a time," he began, "there was a handsome prince who lived in a beautiful castle. He had loving parents, faithful friends, and all the material possessions that anyone could desire. And yet, he felt empty, as if there were something missing from his life. Empty until one day, when he met a fair peasant maid," Blackie turned up an ace of the same suit, "...who stole away his heart."

Rose looked like she wanted to interrupt. After a moment, she closed her mouth and slumped a little in the bar chair, gazing down at the two cards laid out side-by-side.

"The prince's mother was furious when she found out," a third card joined the other two. The Queen of Diamonds. "She tried to reason with the prince, begged him to change his mind, and when nothing worked, threatened to disown her only son. The prince would not listen. Instead, he went to the peasant maid and asked her to run away with him."

Rose's gaze shifted from the cards to the ashtray, and after a moment, she picked the jeweled pin from the ashes. It was a red rose, a Tiffany's original, and worth a small fortune in gems and craftsmanship.

"It's true," Rose said softly. "This was an engagement present. He asked me to elope...and I said yes."

"...A household servant heard of the prince's plan," Blackie continued, " and brought word to the queen. Furious, the queen came up with a plot to separate the two once and for all."

Without prompting, Rose picked up the thread of the story. "She sent me on an errand and then had someone go to my room and take the pin. Then she told Edwin that I had pawned the gift, for the money. She even produced the receipt. Edwin...he didn't want to, but he believed her. She was his mother, after all. What could I do? I had no choice but to leave after that."

Her eyes were focused on the pin, and she didn't see Blackie looking at her with something that could almost have been sympathy. "Princes often realize the truth in the end, you know." Blackie flipped over another card, a five of hearts. "After the maid left the castle, the prince sent out his most trusted friends and allies to help him search for her and bring her back. However, the search was in vain. The queen had already realized that she would lose everything unless she took drastic measures." Another card, this time the five of spades.

When she saw it, Rose's expression became very sad. "So, it was true. I was beginning to wonder if I had dreamed it all." For the first time, she opened the front of her long coat. Her beautiful dress was marred by five dark-stained holes in the chest and abdomen. The knife-inflicted injuries were clearly mortal wounds.

"I don't understand," she said, her voice at once anguished and bewildered. "I never would have done anything to hurt her. Why would she react with such fear? I'm a nobody."

"True. That's often exactly what royalty most fears."

"I didn't actually love Edwin," Rose admitted after a pause. "But still, he was so kind. ...And people's hearts can change with time. I would have done all I could to make him happy. But now I guess I'll never get the chance."

"What," Blackie prompted gently, "would you like to do now?"

Rose considered the words. "I think...I've had enough of life--of the cruelty and selfishness of people. I think I'm ready to move on. And yet..." her fingers caressed the surface of the pin. "I'd like very much to be sure this gets returned to Edwin."

"Oh, I think that could be arranged."

"What will happen to him?" she asked after a moment.

"He'll be sad, for a little while. It takes some time for broken hearts to heal." Blackie gathered up some of the playing cards and shuffled them back into the deck. "But they do heal eventually. He'll go on to marry a nice young woman from his own social circle, and he'll be content, if not happy, as a result."

"I see." Rose looked a little cheered, at that. Then her mouth pressed down in an unhappy line. Blackie had purposefully left the Queen of Diamonds on the bar. "And so I guess as a result of my murder, his mother will get what she wanted after all."

Blackie gave her a knowing look. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. Generally in these types of stories, the wicked queen always gets what's coming to her in the end." Over top of the queen, he set the ace of spades. "She attracted the wrong kind of attention, when she negotiated for murder with the King of Thieves."

"I see." After a moment, Rose reached for her wallet in the pocket of her coat. "I should pay you for the drink."

"Don't worry about it," Blackie said. "It's on the house."

"Thank you," Rose said softly, rising from her chair. "...For everything." She turned away from him and walked towards the door.

On the threshold of the speakeasy, however, she stopped. "This place is lovely," she said, turning back to look at Blackie over her shoulder, "but it's a little out of style. This is the 1950's. You should remodel it to match with the times." She gave him a little parting smile before she stepped through the door, and was gone.

Blackie carefully gathered the remaining cards, and followed Rose's path towards the door. Looking out past the gate, which emptied out into nothing but a field of stars, Blackie reached out and laid a hand on the wooden paneling. "She has a point," he murmured to the air. "What do you think? Should we try to modernize?"

His question got no noticeable response. 

...And yet a little later that same evening, a passerby on the street noted that there was a new all-night cafe in the exact place where the speakeasy had been. He blinked at it in surprise a moment, before continuing on his way.

Behind him, in the quiet of the empty street, the neon sign above the door flickered to 'Open'. 

 


End file.
